


countless reasons

by colorsofmyseason



Series: a thousand senses [9]
Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Arsenal FC, Chelsea FC, Future Fic, Gen, M/M, Transfer Window
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:35:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25858255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colorsofmyseason/pseuds/colorsofmyseason
Summary: With his contract negotiation stalled and his future at Barcelona anything but certain, Marc makes two extreme decisions: transferring to Chelsea and moving in with Bernd.Turns out, it's not that easy living together with your boyfriend who also happens to be your derby rival.
Relationships: Bernd Leno/Marc-André ter Stegen
Series: a thousand senses [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1718806
Comments: 10
Kudos: 10





	1. Moving in with the enemy

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](https://www.mirror.co.uk/sport/football/transfer-news/chelsea-ter-stegen-barcelona-kepa-22440542).
> 
> So, basically this is an AU of my AU... if that makes sense? Lol.
> 
> This series of one-shots/drabbles is set within my [supernatural AU](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1718806), but isn't exactly in line with it either, since I try to follow real-life events in there, yet this one kinda happens in an alternate future in which Marc transfers to Chelsea. 
> 
> And this series probably won't have any real plot, just some random moments here and there, and of course, chaos that is Steno living together.
> 
> Title inspired by SHINee's [Countless](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6lE0AJzOb-I).
> 
> Warning: English isn't my first language.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marc tells Bernd about his transfer decision. Kinda.

"Let's move in together."

Bernd blinks. And blinks. And blinks some more. Because his boyfriend doesn't just ask him that. And especially  _ not _ at the six in the morning, when Bernd has barely even managed to arouse himself from his sleep.

Finally finding his voice, the Arsenal keeper says without bothering to hide his still sleep-laden voice, "What the hell are you talking about? Are you drunk, or still dreaming?"

He can practically hear Marc's eyeroll from the other side of the call as the younger answers, "No, you daft. I really mean it. I want us to move in together. And while your apartment is nice and all, I think it would be good to find a house just for us and…"

"While it does sound lovely and all," Bernd cuts in before his boyfriend can continue with his rambling, "I don't think it's possible. May I politely point out that we currently play at different clubs, no, different  _ countries _ even?? So unless you mean it for our future retirement, or Barcelona suddenly takes a notion to move to England somehow or…"

"Again, no, to both," Marc responds, voice as casual as if he's just talking about the weather. "But Chelsea kinda bids for me, so I'm moving to London soon."

Silence. One minute, two minutes pass without any sound from Bernd's side. Marc is about to ask whether his boyfriend just faints or something when Bernd's voice suddenly erupts from the speaker, almost causing him to drop his phone.

"YOU DIDN'T JUST KEEP THAT NEWS TO THE VERY END, YOU PIECE OF SHIT…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that concludes the first chapter.
> 
> Sorry if it's so short, but it only serves as a prologue for the whole series, and I promise you the next ones will be longer.
> 
> Kudos, comments, and constructive criticisms are appreciated!


	2. In the dressing room

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marc's sudden announcement has caught Bernd in a bad mood, and his teammates at Arsenal has to bear the brunt of it.

As the vice-captain and one of the longest serving members in Arsenal, Hector takes it upon himself to compile the list of rules for Arsenal’s defenders’ union. The rules vary every season (sometimes even every half-season), but during the past two seasons, the #1 and #2 on the list remain the same.

1\. You do not piss off Bernd Leno.

And 2. If you do piss off Bernd Leno, you’ve stepped out of the line, and you’re completely on your own.

The newer members of the defenders’ union always question the necessity of those rules, because, usually, Bernd Leno is perfectly level-headed and unflappable and will not scream at his defenders even when Arsenal’s down 3-0, and especially will blame himself first if anything goes wrong. But Hector, who has witnessed Bernd’s full-blown anger and the true extent of the keeper’s “special ability”, will only say simply, “Let’s hope the second rule will never apply to you, then,” and that’s that.

So, when one day Bernd stomps inside the dressing room, face as tight as it could possibly be and a murderous glint inside his blue eyes, Hector immediately goes alert and looks around the room for a possible suspect.

He’s met with blank faces, some confused and some rather scared (especially the younger players), but no one seems overly guilty or anything, and Hector can’t tell whether they really have no idea or the perpetrator simply has great acting skills.

William, bless his heart, makes a mistake by approaching Bernd and asks cautiously, “Is there something wrong, Bernd? Or is there anything I can help you with?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to talk,” Bernd says, rather snappishly though not thoroughly unkind, and after grabbing his gloves from his bag, he immediately marches outside, leaving the others gaping at this unusual behavior.

William looks around the dressing room, eyes wide. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Hector sighs, gesturing to the young defender to sit back, “you’re just unlucky to witness the stage 3 of Bernd’s wrath, that’s all. But I don’t think it’s your fault, no. Unless you did something to him yesterday?”

The Frenchman shakes his head. “No, no, of course not! Well. At least I didn’t think so.”

“Well, whoever it is, someone _did_ make Bernd angry, so better find out who it is before he lashes out,” Auba states the obvious. “What did you do this time, Lucas?”

The small Uruguayan looks positively aghast at Auba’s suggestion. “Me?? I didn’t do anything! Why did you accuse me??”

“Because you’re the one who usually angers him the most?”

“Just because I did so a few times in the past doesn’t mean I’m doing it now! The last time it occured, he gave me a talk, remember? I’m trying my best here to guarantee it’s never going to happen anymore.”

“Besides, Lucas was with me all day yesterday, there’s no way he could’ve done something to anger Bernd,” Emi says in defense to his younger teammate. “No, it must’ve been someone else.”

“Well, probably the defenders should’ve known,” Dani points out. “After all, you guys play in front of him on a weekly basis.”

“We didn’t do anything wrong,” Kieran protests. “We won the friendly match two days ago, remember? And we only conceded one goal!”

“Well, you know, goalkeepers,” Granit shrugs. “They’d rather win 1-0 and keep a clean sheet than 5-1, or so I heard.”

“But it was two days ago, okay,” Rob retorts. “If he’s mad he could’ve just exploded to us right after the game, or the next day! And besides, why do we defenders always get blamed if Bernd is mad?? Emi, you should’ve known something, probably it’s some goalkeeper stuff.”

Emi rolls his eyes. “If it is some goalie stuff then I should’ve known and I would’ve told you. No, I can assure you it isn’t.”

“Then WHAT is it that makes him angry??” Sead asks, looking around.

Musti looks deep in thought. “Well,” he states carefully, “if it isn’t a bad game, none of you have wronged him, and as far as I know he hasn’t had any problem whatsoever with his other friends, then it could only be...Oh. Oh my goodness. I can’t believe it. I can’t believe I haven’t thought about this before!”

“Why, what is it??” Laca inquires, confused, but Musti doesn’t pay attention to him because he’s already fished out his phone from his pocket and is currently typing something frantically on it.

Mesut slides closer to Musti and peeks over the defender’s shoulder, and his eyes widen as he sees Musti’s phone screen. “Oh, goodness. No wonder he’s mad. Why didn’t we know it…”

“And what is _it_ , actually??” Auba demands, crossing his arms on his chest. “Can we know, or is it some kind of German thing that we don’t understand?”

As a response, Musti tosses his phone towards the captain and the other Arsenal players hurriedly flock around him, trying to see what’s on it that supposedly has caused Bernd to lose his shit.

An article from a sports page greets them, and in the middle of the screen, the title of the article flashes in big, bold, incriminating letters:

“CHELSEA CONFIRM SIGNING OF EX-BARCA KEEPER MARC-ANDRE TER STEGEN”

And a collective sigh echoes all around the dressing room as Auba reads the news out loud.

-

“So, why _exactly_ did Bernd behave like that again…? I mean...I know ter Stegen is also a German keeper and I’ve heard about his supposed rivalry with Bernd...so is Bernd actually mad because his rival is going to live in the same city as him or…?”

“...Hec, you explain to the kid, I don’t think he gets it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that concludes the second chapter.
> 
> William is William Saliba, Arsenal's young defender who just newly joined the squad for the 20/21 season. And he's also the one who asked the question in the end, since he still has no idea about Bernd's love life.
> 
> I know Bernd is always all stoic and unflappable in front of the goal and in real life, but that's also why I imagine he can actually be real scary when he's mad, haha. Lucas is usually the one with the capability of irking Bernd to death, as mentioned [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24621967/chapters/62729461).
> 
> Also, yeah I'm aware Arsenal doesn't have any friendly or preseason matches before the new season starts but for the sake of this fic, sssh, let's pretend.
> 
> I know it's not much, but hope you like it. Kudos, comments and constructive criticisms are appreciated!


	3. An Ode to Goalkeepers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who understands more about goalkeeper troubles than a fellow goalkeeper?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, today I just heard that Emi apparently wishes to leave if he doesn't get a chance to be first-choice keeper :( I swear I didn't mean to jinx him or anything by writing this piece! And I love Emi, I don't want him to leave Arsenal, though I have to admit I don't want him to take over Bernd's place either, haha.
> 
> And basically, this is my attempt on writing Steno having some kind of heart-to-heart talk...which may be not as successful as I've wanted, lol. Oh well. Hope you still enjoy it though!

When Marc arrives home from training that day, Bernd’s nowhere to be found.

His first reaction is confusion, followed by panic. Their house is slightly closer to Colney than Cobham, and Bernd, being the more introverted one between the two of them, isn’t the type to hang around in the dressing room for longer than necessary, so he usually arrives home earlier. And Marc doesn’t remember his boyfriend telling him that he would be having an interview or something today.

The Chelsea keeper quickly fishes out his phone, intending to call Bernd, but ends up breathing a sigh of relief as a text from the other keeper pops on the screen just as he’s about to unlock the phone.

_Get called to Mikel’s office. Will be home late. Love you <3 _

Marc smiles as he reads the text, especially the heart emoji at the end of it. He knows Bernd’s never been someone who blatantly shows his affection to anyone, not even his own boyfriend, so to see him progressing to this point is certainly something to be proud about. Replying with another heart emoji as well, Marc locks his phone back and goes to the kitchen, figuring that since he has some time, it’s better to prepare some lunch for both of them.

The front door cracks open as Marc just pulls out the baked macaroni out of the oven and is taking a whiff out of it, smiling to himself. It smells good, and he wishes Bernd would love it. Walking to the dining room, he calls out, “Is that you, babe??”

“Yeah,” comes Bernd’s reply. “What’s that smell? Did you make lunch?”

“I sure did. Come here.”

Bernd enters the dining room just as Marc’s putting the food on the table. He looks cute, Marc muses, with his curls unstyled and ungelled and still slightly wet from shower, and his body wrapped in an oversized Arsenal hoodie. But as Marc steps forward to hug the older man, he notices a slight weariness in Bernd’s eyes that he’s sure has nothing to do with the training session.

“Uh oh,” Marc says, scrutinizing his boyfriend’s face carefully. “Trouble in paradise?”

The older man offers him a tired smile. “You can say that.”

“Care telling me? Does it have something to do with your manager summoning you to his office earlier?”

Bernd doesn’t respond for awhile, so Marc simply pours him some drink and waits. He knows that if his counterpart really doesn’t wish to talk about whatever’s bugging his mind, then he’ll say it immediately, and him being silent only means that he needs time to either gather his thoughts or find proper words to say it. And true to Marc’s prediction, after six minutes that seem like forever, Bernd finally speaks up.

“Mikel called me and Emi to his office to discuss our...goalkeeper problem.”

Marc frowns. “Emi?”

“Emi Martinez. You know, Arsenal’s ba- _other_ keeper.”

Ah yeah, Marc remembers now. The Argentina keeper that has taken Bernd’s place ever since the latter was “injured”. Yet Marc can’t help lifting his eyebrows as he knows Bernd was so close to saying “backup keeper” there, but decides not to mention it. “Alright, and what about it?? Isn't the goalkeeping position the least of your club’s worries for now? I mean you’ve recovered, and he’s doing pretty good too, no?”

Bernd inhales. “Well, according to Mikel, both of us are performing excellently in training…”

“And I’m glad to hear that, so what _exactly_ is the problem here?”

“...Well, he only needs one first choice keeper, you know.”

Oh. 

_Oh._

Marc heaves a deep breath as understanding dawns on him. Of course, that should be it. Classic goalkeeper problem, that is, yet also something he doubts will ever meet a solution to all eternity. One they experience a lot in the national team, maybe far too much, even. And Marc knows that Bernd thinks he has had enough with that kind of drama in the national team, he doesn’t need another in club level too.

“Your manager didn’t mean to relegate you to the bench and make you a cup keeper, no??” Marc asks. “Because if he did…”

“No, no, he doesn’t,” Bernd quickly denies, and Marc lets out another deep breath, in relief this time. “He still wants me to be his first choice keeper but...yeah, you guess it, not everyone’s happy with the decision.”

Marc isn’t sure he wishes to hear the rest. “And then…? What did Martinez say to you afterwards?”

Bernd laughs, hollow and humorless. “What do you think?”

Indeed, Marc knows. How come he doesn’t, if he has received – or said – those words over and over again many times in his career? All the sweet words about being happy for the other, the _first choice_ keeper – and Marc feels bile rising in his throat even at the thought of it – and how he deserves it, and good luck for the match, et cetera et cetera. The words that could never be more genuine, yet insincere at the same time. Genuine because as fellow teammates, of course you would want your team to do well, but insincere too since you also know you would kill to be the one between the sticks.

And Marc can also guess what Bernd has probably said to Emi in return. Another string of equally kind words about how grateful he is for Emi’s support, how he’s sorry for Emi for not getting his chance yet, a promise to do his best in guarding Arsenal’s goal, probably something else along the lines of “keep your chin up” and “you’ll get there someday”. Marc has no doubt that, being friends and teammates, Bernd also has uttered all those words to Emi in all honesty, but he’ll be damned if the older keeper doesn’t feel some elation as well since, after all, he’s still the first choice.

“I don’t like this,” Bernd murmurs in a low voice. “The situation, I mean. Emi has been loyal to the club for ten years, everyone says he deserves his chance. And he’s also a great keeper in his own way, and a good friend for me too. I know this decision must’ve hurt him to no end, though he doesn’t exactly show it. And yet…”

“And yet you can’t possibly tell your manager to start him instead,” Marc finishes quietly.

“Yes,” Bernd whispers, eyes downcast.

And that’s just the trouble, the ugly truth, of being a goalkeeper, Marc thinks. You can be best friends – or even boyfriends – with your fellow goalies off the pitch, but on it, you’re rivals who vie for the same position. And being a keeper isn’t the same as being an outfield player. You can switch your midfielders or forwards anytime to suit your need, but unless your goalkeeper plays really badly or is injured, there’s almost no chance the second choice keeper would start at every two league games.

Marc doesn’t voice that thought to Bernd. He knows his boyfriend has understood everything already, it’s one of the unspoken rules – yet probably the most important – of the goalkeeper union. He himself knows that if faced with a similar situation in the national team, he’ll never tell Jogi to pick Bernd instead, despite how much love he has for the older keeper, and vice versa. 

He decides against telling Bernd that, not because he’s afraid, but because it’s irrelevant to the older’s current problem right now, and he’s sure Bernd also has known about it as well. Instead he only says, rather lamely, “I’m sorry you and Martinez are facing this problem. I wish you two will be able to get through it, but especially him.”

That’s not the most eloquent sentence there is, and he can tell that Bernd isn’t satisfied either, as his boyfriend snorts, “You make it sound as if Emi and I have a relationship problem or something.”

“But that’s the truth,” Marc says bluntly. “Who says it’s easy being a goalkeeper? You and Martinez currently are facing the same problem as Manu and I did back then before the 2018 World Cup. Both of us wanted to be No. 1, and felt like we deserved it either way. And Manu also had just recovered from injury and had barely played all season while I strived through most of our qualification matches. You’re also in the same situation, though maybe you only missed six weeks there, but objectively, Martinez had been more than a decent replacement for you. Combined with his ten years of loyalty to the club, he had more than enough reason to think he deserves to be No. 1. Yet back then Jogi chose Manu, and now your manager has chosen you. The ‘losers’ here just have to live with the decision.”

Bernd falls silent at that.

“I’m not telling you to feel sorry or something towards Martinez here,” Marc quickly adds, certainly misreading Bernd’s silence as disagreement. “Or maybe...you already do? My point is, it’s just the fact of life of a goalkeeper as I’m sure you yourself have known better than anyone, and therefore just accept the decision, be happy with it and move on with your life. Maybe it’s a bit selfish, but then again, everything in football is selfish at one point or another. You don’t have to _explain_ anything. Just let your games do the talking and show Arteta, and all the doubters, but especially Martinez, why you truly deserve to be No. 1.”

And Marc is glad to see that for the first time since Bernd arrives home, finally there’s a hint of smile on the older keeper’s lips. “Are you actually telling me to do that? To let my games do the talking, I mean?”

Marc simply grins and pulls Bernd into his embrace. The taller man hugs him back after a few seconds, and Marc is sure he doesn’t imagine the muttered, “ _Thank you_ ,” under Bernd’s breath afterwards.

They don’t talk anymore about it for the rest of the day, not that they particularly need to. Marc knows that despite Bernd’s supposed nonchalant reaction towards his advice regarding this matter, his boyfriend actually minds it and is going to do exactly that. Whatever comes out of it, Marc thinks, they’ll see when the time comes.

(He sincerely hopes that Bernd will keep on playing well and maintaining his position as Arsenal’s number one keeper though, of course.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that concludes the chapter, hope you all like it.
> 
> Cobham is Chelsea's training ground while Colney is Arsenal's. I googled them and apparently there's only 30 mins drive or so between them, so I think it's plausible for Bernd and Marc to buy a house somewhere between those two places, haha.
> 
> Kudos, comments, and constructive criticisms are appreciated!

**Author's Note:**

> Check my [tumblr](https://colorsofmyseason.tumblr.com/tagged/fanfiction) for more fic dumps/entries about my supernatural AU!


End file.
